How They Tell Time

something is 9 in the morning

waking was too easy

we could steal one hour

save another quarter pulling on last vacation’s shorts

here on the south side:

warm blinking disbelief

of shaded lenses

now this is a place we could live

a day like today

could sell patios and porches to sidewalks and fire escapes

no patch of skin is too tender

hems raised high

pinkish proud

hurt

tomorrow probably

if only if only

trade in swiftness for the slower mimosa

we could open our wide day

yes, and

arrive when we did.

by Sarah Skaggs